Why Is The Paintbrush Crying?
by: Apple - Hoang Nan Anh (Contributor)

If the brush cries, Moose Tyler will have reason to torture the class.
If the brush cries, Apple will have reason to practice her writing.
If the brush cries, Jill will have reason to believe that nothing is impossible.
If the brush cries, we will have something to think about instead of feeling sleepy in the morning.
If the brush cries, it looks better.
If the brush cries, the color will fade.

It has a number of reasons to cry.
Justin Bieber is still alive.
Public transportation has increased the fare.
Facebook bitches are everywhere.
Agnes keeps singing Disney Channel theme songs.
Jill is angry cause she doesn't have any script ideas.
Potential war is everywhere.
Chinese people is everywhere.
Everyone practices discrimination.
The Kopi* at school sucks.
Everyone will die one day.
Everyone will cry at least once.
Tom has a number of lame jokes and always talks.
This assignment is impossible.

The brush doesn't know who its mother is.
The brush cannot enjoy pizza.
The brush cannot watch South Park and laugh.
The brush cannot have beer.

The brush is crying because it's sad.

Editor's Note: Kopi means coffee.

This poem was created after I was joking around with some Singaporean students. I had drawn a picture of a paintbrush on another professor's blackboard and wrote instructions for students to write a poem to explain why the paintbrush was crying. After all, the other class was "Art In Our World." I left and some students who arrived late didn't realize the assignment was a joke and wrote the poem. Apple turned in her poem when I saw her later that day.

The names of the other students have been changed to protect the innocent.

by Bruce Lee (Contributor)

I wish neither to possess,
Nor to be possessed.
I no longer covet paradise,
More important, I no longer fear hell.

The medicine for my suffering
I had within me from the very beginning,
But I did not take it.
My ailment came from within myself,
But I did not observe it
Until this moment.

Now I see that I will never find the light
Unless, like the candle, I am my own fuel,
Consuming myself.

by Bruce Lee (Contributor)

Young man,
Seize every minute
Of your time.

Thedays fly by;
Ere long you too
Will grow old.

If you believe me not,
See there, in the courtyard,
How the frost
Glitters white and cold and cruel
On the grass that once was green.

Do you not see
That you and I
Are as the branches
Of one tree?

With your rejoicing,
Comes my laughter;
With your sadness
Start my tears.

Love,
Could life be otherwise
With you and me?

by Bruce Lee (Contributor)

The wind is in high frolic with the rain.
Outside the garden a little yellow leaf
Clinging desparately to its mother branch

I pick up the leaf
And put it in the book,
Giving it a home.

by Bruce Lee (Contributor)

Love is like a friendship caught on fire.
In the beginning a flame,
Very pretty, often hot and fierce
But still and only light and flickering.

As love grows older, our hearts mature
And our love becomes as coals,
Deep-burning and unquenchable.